Persona 4:CEO
by PFCKor
Summary: High profile members of society get their hands dirty to solve a mystery that conveniently originates in their supposed place of solitude. Against all odds, they must work together to protect the things that they hold dear. Based off of the game, Persona 4, but has no affiliation to the company that made said game.
1. Chapter 1: A New Yet Strange Beginning

**The following is an account of the well-established individuals of society based in the Persona 4 setting. All depictions of real-life personalities are entirely fictional.**

* * *

A vintage car, enshrouded by a thick fog, drove slowly past him eventually coming to a stop. He was dreaming. This would be a self-conscious dream, he thought as the realization sunk in, one of those dreams that were too close for comfort.

Without warning, he found his body thrust into the car and coming face-to-face with a sneering, blood-shot eyed, imp of a man. He could not avert his gaze from the protruding nose and his receding, wiry, white hair until he noticed the beauty sitting right beside him.

With flowing golden locks and a smooth, sculpted face, the woman inside the vehicle served as a stark contrast to her alleged colleague. She sat upright and proper next to the table that lay before them.

It was the old man that spoke first. "Ah…it seems we have a guest with an intriguing destiny." He spoke in a high-pitched tone of voice and chuckled softly after reiterating his assessment of the man.

"My name is Igor," he continued. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance. This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter…"

"So my dream is telling me that I'm not dreaming? That's the last time I ask the stewardess to leave the Coke can on my tray."

Igor appeared unwavering. "It is a room that only those who are bound by a _contract_ may enter…"

"I'm going to stop you there," he interrupted, "but as the ex-Chairman of a multi-billion dollar company, I feel I'm qualified to correct your loose definition of this _contract_ you speak of."

Amused, he figured he would play along with whatever nonsense this dream of his confronted him with.

"You see, a proper contract is only forged by the signing of the potential patron as an agreement to the obligations outlined by the document. Such a document has never been signed by me, nor come to my attention."

"Oh, but it has!" countered Igor enthusiastically. "No person may enter this room unless they are bound by this _contract_…"

"Lovely," he muttered to himself, "identity theft has finally caught up to me through the forgery of some delinquent signing my life away."

Showing no sign of sympathy, Igor barraged him with more startling facts.

"It may be that such a fate awaits you in the near future. Now then… why don't you introduce yourself?"

"Bill. Just Bill is fine, thank you."

"Hm… I see. Now, let's take a look into your future, shall we? Do you believe in fortune telling?"

"No."

"Each reading is done with the same cards, yet the result is always different…" There was no stopping this man, thought Bill. It was like the guy had been predisposed to imitating a pre-recorded "*.wav" file for which there was no pause button.

"Life itself follows the same principles, doesn't it?" Igor said, chuckling to himself.

"While I enjoy a good philosophical debate, something tells me it's not worth the investment here."

"Hm… The Tower in the upright position represents the immediate future. It seems a terrible catastrophe is imminent." Unbelievable. Igor would be a dangerous man in the political field.

Igor turned his attention to a different card. "The Moon, in the upright position. This card represents "hesitation" and "mystery"… very interesting indeed.

It seems you will encounter a misfortune at your destination, and a great mystery will be imposed upon you. In the coming days, you will enter into a contract of some sort," _Wait, another one?!_ "after which you will return here. The coming arbitrary length of time is a turning point in your destiny… If the mystery goes unsolved your future may be forever lost. My duty is to provide you assistance to our guests to ensure that does not happen.

Ah! I have neglected to introduce my assistant to you. This is Margaret. She is a resident of this place, like myself."

A faint smile emerged on Margaret's face as she turned to acknowledge Bill. "My name is Margaret. I am here to accompany you through your journey." She immediately lowered her head toward the giant book in her lap after speaking.

Igor started up again. "We shall attend to the details another time. Until then, farewell…"

"Before I go, can I just say one thing?" Bill asked, attempting some politeness.

"Go on…"

Bill straightened his body and raised one hand to adjust his glasses. Speaking in a firm voice, he demanded only one thing from the odd pair. "Get the hell out of my psyche."

Bill's eyes shot open only to see and hear the tangible scene of men and women in suits shuffling around to gather their bags.

"_We are arriving at our destination in approximately five minutes. The local time is… well, what does it matter to you anyway! Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened until the craft has come to a complete stop. We hope you enjoyed your relaxing flight with us and we all wish you a peaceful holiday._" The voice of a pilot sounding out over the intercom had never been sweeter to him. Peering out of a nearby window, his surroundings appeared vibrant and colorful as the bright sun shone in the picturesque clear, blue skies.

After docking at the airport, a mad scramble ensued as people squeezed their way into the aisle to depart the plane. Bill casually grabbed his bag and waited for everyone to pass by. No need to rush. He would be staying here for a while. All of them would be.

He passed the smiling faces of the flight attendants and pilots, making his way to the air bridge and out of the airport.

The first thought that came to his mind upon arriving was what exactly he would have for dinner that evening.


	2. Chapter 2: Initial Destination

"Welcome to Destination Island!" the exuberant voice of a smiling woman greeted Bill upon exiting through the airport doors.

Bill returned the smile as he nodded toward her. The warm air and gentle breeze welcomed him to this place, already allowing him to relax before even settling in.

"Right this way, sir. Your new life awaits you!" The woman directed him toward a parked car on the side of the street. A new life – Bill liked the sound of that. After traveling thousands of miles away from the life he had become accustomed to, he was skeptical at just how radical of a change this place could be for him. He had always sought a u-turn, a back road, or any other kind of deviation from the path the latter part of his life was going to take him, even if it was mandated.

What kind of change Destination Island promised was yet to be determined.

Bill climbed into the passenger seat of the vehicle, right next to a wide-eyed driver wearing a uniform similar to that of the woman who greeted him earlier. "You're…you're…!"

"Yes, I'm Bill, pleased to meet you."

"Oh, Bill!" he exclaimed, extending his hand to shake, for which Bill obliged. "It's an honor to meet you, sir. I'll have you know that I'm a big fan of everything you've done. I never, not once, questioned your investment choices-"

"Enough!" interrupted Bill. "You can probably understand when I say that it's been a long flight, and the last thing I want to do is shoot stories about all of my escapades with you."

"S-sorry, sir. How about I just drive you to your residency."

"Yes, how about you do that."

They drove past various shops, apartment complexes, and restaurants all seemingly designed to be in a movie. Every possible expense seemed to go into this paradise – a serious effort to make the incoming denizens as comfortable as possible living here. Bill could appreciate _that_ part of his earlier livelihood not changing.

"We're here," the driver broke the silence as they pulled into the entrance of a massive hotel – but you might as well call it a resort – and hurried out to help Bill gather his luggage.

A rather tall, smiling man hurried out to greet them. He pushed aside his neat, white hair and rubbed his clean-shaven chin as he waited patiently for them.

"Until next time," the driver said, climbing back into his car.

"Yep."

As the car sped off, Bill turned toward the other man. "Ah, it's about time you arrived here. My name is Tom Stevenson, but everyone around here calls me Pops. I've taken to treating all of my patrons as my own flesh blood and so I ended up adopting the name."

The two of them shook hands, and Bill followed Pops through the large, glass doors. Inside, the resort might as well have passed for a sprawling palace. Chandeliers, garland, marble floors, mahogany furnishings, and antique clocks all decorated the foyer. "Your room would be upstairs," Pops motioned for Bill to follow him.

After venturing for some time down an equally eye-pleasing hallway, they arrived at Bill's room. Once they stepped in, Bill could only stare in awe. He had seen plenty of luxurious living arrangements in his time, but nothing compared to the pure diamond-knobbed, gold-plated faucets, the silk curtains, the temperature adjusting bed, and the bronze statue serving as a fountain surround by a coy fish pond.

Pops noticed his eyes lingering on the fountain. "We had some extra money to throw around, so we figured, why the hell not? If you find it tacky, we'll take it out and put in laser lights like one of our other guests asked for. We'll even let you eat the fish."

"I've got to say," Bill's voice exuded wonderment, "you've really outdone yourself here."

"Wow, coming from the world's richest man… no we haven't."

Bill gathered up his luggage and brought them over to his bed. Pops continued, "Tomorrow we'll be serving breakfast down by the pool. You're welcome to join, in fact I strongly implore that you show up, even with all that jet lag. You'll be able to meet some of the people – sorry, _they'll_ be able to meet you, and my cooks are damn good, mind you. We get new people coming in a lot, and it's sort of our little unofficial welcome to your new home."

"Sounds like something I shouldn't miss." Pops nodded and subsequently made his exit.

Bill walked over to a nearby window and peered out at what lay before him. A beautiful sunset appeared on the horizon lined with palm trees just before the coast, which consisted of white sand and clear, blue waters. They weren't kidding when they promised us paradise, thought Bill.

Before he looked away from the window, a figure dressed in some kind of white cloth ran out onto a nearby lawn. The figure carried a large white sign, barely able to keep their balance at the size of it. The person looked up, and even with the hood enshrouding their face from visibility, Bill believed they were staring directly at him.

Eyebrows furrowed, Bill stared intently at whatever this individual planned to do next. After standing still for some time, they finally flipped over the sign and held it high above their head. In bold, comic sans letters it read:

**PLEASE GO TO SLEEP**

Bill simply sat there, party out of being perplexed, partly to see how long this mysterious person could keep the sign raised above their head. A solid five minutes passed, and the sign was lowered. However, the figure did not move. Instead, they raised it up one more time, and astonishingly, a new message appeared:

**DO YOU SEEK THE TRUTH?**

At that, Bill yanked his blinds clothes. He looked to his suitcase. I still have a lot of unpacking to do, he thought. But that could wait until tomorrow.

As much as he wanted to eliminate any trace of that dream he had on his flight, it remained as vivid as ever. He could even recall the smell, the feeling of the carpet in the vehicle he somehow ended up inside. That smiling Igor and his assistant, Margaret, were also quite clear to him.

As illogical as it sounded, could that figure out on the lawn somehow be aware of his dreams, and thus urging him to return to whatever place he had been? Bill shook his head at that thought.

Even if there was no connection, he had no intention of returning to that place anyway. And so, just like his days as a startup executive, he decided he would not be getting any sleep that night.

Instead, he waited.


	3. Chapter 3: Mundane Encounters

The entire night passed by, and a rather groggy Bill made his descent down the polished staircase and proceeded to the outdoor patio. White chairs, tables, and umbrellas filled the area, along with many excited men and women speaking amongst themselves while they enjoyed their morning meal.

Before he could even select a table to occupy, Pops rushed over to greet him.

"Bill! Just the man I was hoping to see! Pretty soon you'll be turning a few more heads other than mine," he said as he peered out into the crowd. "Come on; let's get you something to eat. Follow me to the kitchen."

Bill would normally pass up the offer for a personal guide; however he was in no mood to protest. After all, he was a man. And like all men, when food is required, it transcends all.

The smell of egg, fresh breads, and most importantly bacon wafted toward him indicating they drew near to sustenance. Bill was already contemplating just how many servings he would have. Three and a half.

Pops led him into a door, and all the smells from earlier bombarded him in full force. "The one time I wish I wasn't busy. I would stay and chat, but I have to run. Help yourself to whatever you like. Gotta go!" Pops waved to him as he dashed out of the door.

Bill selected his meal and found a seat outside, alone. Just like anything he approached in life, he enjoyed looking in from the outside and evaluating before investigating. As such, no conversations would be had today.

But intentions have a funny way of not coming to fruition. Such a case happened immediately upon Bill taking his seat, as a man wearing a wide smile with smoothed back grayish hair drew near.

"You look like a man of distinction. I like that kind of guy," he said.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I'm not really here for small talk," Bill replied, poignantly.

"And I don't mean to be forward with you, but nothing we discuss could ever be considered small talk," he wore a smug grin with that sentiment.

Bill frowned. "Excuse me, but my name carried a lot of weight back home. Mark my words; it will be the same here on Destination Island. You'd do well to remember that, so take my advice and get out of my face else you will suffer the repercussions later."

The slick, gray-haired man across from him slid into an adjacent seat, obviously unmoved by Bill's strong tone. "I'm- I was a politician," he explained, "I forget names once they become irrelevant to me."

A politician, thought Bill, well, looks like there's no getting out of this one. At the very least he managed to show a grimace indicating his discontent with the situation before he waved on the relentless fed to join him.

Smiling that highly practiced, insincere smile Bill suspected it to be, the gentleman finally introduced himself. "The name's Bill." His demeanor did exude genuine excitement, but for what, he could not probe. They were always hiding something.

"Really? Bill? That happens to be my name as well."

The other Bill actually appeared taken aback, his façade clearly not ready for such a coincidence. "Both of us are Bill, huh. In that case, we'll need a sophisticated naming system so that other people can tell us apart."

Bill once again expressed his annoyance. The suggestion made it sound like the two of them would be spending more quality time together. "Alright, then. What do you propose?"

"How about you be Billone and I'll be Billtwo?" Billone could at least admire the fact that this man had placed someone above himself. Perhaps he would enjoy this meeting yet.

"That works for me. Succinct and practical." Billone nodded his approval to the politician.

"Good, now let's get down to business," stated Billtwo firmly. He leaned in closer.

"Oh?" inquired Bill, a single eyebrow raised. Just like any proficient politician, Billtwo knew when to hide his aim and when to attack.

"I'm in need of your expertise. I've been waiting for a while here trying to find someone… well, someone like you. Just this morning I was informed that you have a solid understanding of computers." Billtwo explained plainly and steadily, which emphasized that him reaching out was not to be taken lightly.

"Yes, you could say that."

"That's great," his expression turned solemn, and he leaned in even closer, lowering his volume to just above a whisper. "Have you heard of the midnight program?"

"The what?" Billone blurted, trying to suppress a laugh yet utterly failing.

"Hear me out," insisted Billtwo, "you're going to want to. And try not to draw attention to us! I'd like to keep this on a low profile until I can really confirm what's up.

This midnight program is said to only be available as a process on your computer when it's raining and during the obvious time. Apparently all you have to do open up a command prompt and type the 'start' command. That's it. Normally you'd be given an error, but if the conditions are right, then something will _actually_ run! The make or model of the computer being used doesn't even matter. It works on anything."

"Sounds like a rogue protocol to me," responded Billone plainly. "I could care less whether some inexperienced tech mistook malicious software for superstition."

Billtwo furrowed his eyebrows, obviously displeased with the feedback he was getting. "I'll admit, you got me there. I'm no expert when it comes to computers. But what that program displayed cannot be ignored. It was quite personal to the end user."

"And what's that?"

"It showed… the _user's assets_. Nothing destroyed, misplaced, or unaccounted for. It was like they were back in the command chair, ready lead their business once again."

True or not, Billone felt a shudder of excitement shoot through his body. The dream of him or anyone like him followed the exact words the man across from him had just conveyed. Like a drug, Billone felt himself drawn more and more to what he was hearing. Moments ago he had been scoffing at anything Billtwo said, only to completely reverse his stance in the discussion. He now found himself intent on listening further.

"Who told you this?" Billone inquired, his voice expressing his newfound eagerness.

"I seem to finally have your attention." Ah, the mind of a politician. They have such a keen insight into the subconscious interest in a conversation. "Now, I haven't seen this for myself as of yet, so I can only write it off as a rumor. But John was the individual that passed this information along to me."

Billone acquired exactly one new objective for the morning. Find John.

"Want me to introduce you to him?" Perhaps this would be easier for Billone than he originally thought.

"Yes, of course!" By now, he had changed from acting clam and apathetic to eager insistent. Billtwo immediately left the table and disappeared into the throng of people crowding the plaza. A few minutes later, he returned with a slightly younger man in toe.

As with most people on this island, his slicked-back hair showed signs of graying. He had a rather roundish face, and at first glance appeared to be a rather warm, yet outspoken person. Beneath his sports coat, he wore a plain, yet well-tailored dress shirt.

"Hello, the name's John," he said as he approached Billone. "I understand you may have some questions for me."

"Well, your friend here has certainly piqued my interest on this midnight program. And by the way, I'm Billone."

"Nice to meet you, Billone. Now I'm afraid what I have to tell you may not be to your liking. You've heard everything I'd have to say from my friend here. This rumor didn't start from me… maybe it's something of an urban legend exclusive to Destination Island. There's a pretty good chance it could be absolute bullshit. But hey, I'm convinced enough to try it anyway. There is a good reason.

If anything, the motivational factor should be compelling enough for you. You see, this program shows you-"

"I've been filled in on those details as well," interjected Billone.

"I see. Bill uh… two seems to have spared none of the important details then."

"So the only thing we really have to do is wait for it to rain one of these nights," concluded Billtwo. The others nodded their heads silently in agreement, contemplating everything that was just discussed. Is the midnight program real? If so, what is it? Why does it even exist?

Even a hoax, and a crazy one at that, would not be turned down by three veteran leaders of their respective trades. Pursuing such things were in their very essence, no matter the absurdity.

Contrary to Billone's initial intentions, he kept the other men around, at least for the time being. An investigation like this required trials from different angles – a process that would be difficult to do alone. And so he finished the next two servings of his breakfast – now edging into lunchtime – discussing the midnight program, computers, homeroom teachers, and whatever else came up in their conversation. He found a common sense of determination that paralleled his own. But then, such qualities should be expected of anyone on Destination Island.

At last, John broke the direction of the conversation with a suggestion. "So I'm starting to feel this bond coming on between all of us. Why don't we take this newly established friendship and go celebrate with a trip to Junes?"

Friend would be going too far, thought Billone. But he was curious about these plans. "Junes? What's Junes?"

He received his response – nothing but blank stares. Billtwo and John might as well had seen an intern open their mouth at a company meeting with the expressions they wore.

"Quit staring at me!"

John shook his head. "Sorry, I forgot what it was like for the uninitiated."

"You'll have to excuse us here. We expected the legend that is Junes to have already reached the hearts of everyone across the world, big or small, weak or strong," Billtwo added.

John took it upon himself to begin explaining in detail. "Junes is the penultimate store."

"It puts any other store out of business." Now it was Billtwo's turn to shower his praise on the brand. Billone could only look on in wonder, at how the two wove together an extolling detail of this store.

"It's true," explained John, "it has become the pinnacle of competitive marketing. A company that made it to the top leaving nothing in its wake."

"Junes can give you groceries, electronics, and clothes."

"You can find any cuisine you desire in just one elevator trip to the food court. They have accommodating hours, pristine return policies, and unparalleled customer service."

"Junes can be whatever you want it to be. Junes is everything."

The two of them took a pause to let the brilliance of the store sink into Billone. And sink in it did. "Junes… Junes… Junes…" Billone muttered to himself over and over. "Something tells me this store will become an integral part of lives here on Destination Island. Let's not waste anymore time then. I need this inauguration today."

Without any hesitation, the trio vacated the premise and headed on over to Junes. The remaining part of the day was filled with activities to partake in at Junes, including food court roulette, video game demos, grocery cart relay, and analogous apparel. It was all a wonderful bonding experience as well as good entertainment for the bored employees seeing grown men acting like awkward children.

"Whew! What a day!" exclaimed John as they walked outside into the starry-skied night.

"Junes did not disappoint," Billone stated, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"I would have relations with everything Junes has to offer any day," Billtwo admitted.

"Let's not forget, gentlemen, that we have a task at hand here," John reminded them, dropping the mood amongst them to a more somber one. "Anyone know tonight's weather?"

Billone hastily whipped out his phone and brought up his weather app. "Ah, perfect. Expected showers in a few hours and it will continue well into the night."

Looking at the phone, Billtwo said, "Thank God for technology and phones. Imagine if we had to wait for a news broadcast to find out the weather at the end of each day."

The other two nodded in agreement. After confirming the weather for the night, the three of them walked silently back to their respective rooms. Each of them were meditating, preparing for what was to come.


End file.
